


====> Davesprite: Swallow the blame

by orphan_account



Series: Homestuck Rarepair Swap 2014 [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, Electricity, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, M/M, Other, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1519280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TT: Hello.<br/>TT: Judging from your hesitation in responding, you think that was simply a recorded greeting, not an actual, live salutation.<br/>TT: While I may not be alive by obsolete, mortal standards which are so unnecessarily tied to the sad fragility of flesh, I can assure you that this is an actual, active attempt at beginning a conversation and not a relic nor an autoresponse.<br/>TT: That is, unless my origin as an autoresponder means that is therefore an autoresponse. But that’s a ludicrously unenlightened way to look at it.<br/>TG: are you for serious<br/>TT: I would prefer to think of myself as “for ironic”, since I was originally created for ironic, rather than solemn, purposes, but my existence itself is very sincere so the answer to your question as intended would be, “Yes, I am very much for serious.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	====> Davesprite: Swallow the blame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadcellredux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcellredux/gifts).



> Based on the prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _I would love to see angst here-- terrible, awful, heart-wrenching angst, and perhaps some insight into AI and the human condition. Davesprite's existence really bothered me, because Dave, as a Knight of Time, has already suffered through countless doomed timelines and died a bunch of times-- and to have all of those memories manifested into a sprite who is potentially not taken seriously as a real Dave is heartbreaking to me. I have A Thing about tropes involving doomed timelines, and also A Big Thing for artificial intelligence. I like the idea of AR and Davesprite being left behind (perhaps an AU in which AR didn't become ARquiussprite?) and meeting up with one another, and bonding over their supposedly second-fiddle selves. I would love for this to be as dark and angsty and depressing as possible. I also love the idea of AR being a manipulative, creepy mess, and also quite self-aware of its existence, for what it is. Go ahead and break my heart with this, I welcome it._
> 
> Thank you to [stunrunner](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stunrunner) for editing.

Time no longer feels like your area of expertise when you have an eternity ahead of you. Your game role and the accompanying timeline-meddling skills are long obsolete; you accepted your doomed reality to save another, and in doing so helped the main Dave win. Once Lord English had been vanquished and a new universe created, Dave and _his_ friends moved on, leaving you alone in a barren empire of ghost planets and useless relics.

There’s not much for you to do except wander. The Land of Pyramids and Neon is pretty, you guess, but ultimately boring. Same goes for the Land of Crypts and Helium. The houses are identical to Rose’s and John’s, respectively, except they aren’t built up at all. The desolation of their planets is eerie. Each is like a skeleton, entire world frameworks designed but never fleshed out. Compared with the hordes of enemies and villages of consorts you’re used to, these worlds feel empty. If there were ever any half-assed opportunities for adventure here, they’ve long since been exhausted.

The Land of Tombs and Krypton is just as dull, but some of its trappings hit much closer to home. It’s the same apartment building that you grew up in, almost. It’s not built up, and only the top floor is intact; the bottom is just steel scaffolding.

You bypass the interior for now, heading straight to the roof. As soon as you’re up there, your eyes immediately fall upon a pair of shades that look just like Bro’s. They must have belonged to Dirk, though why he left them lying around is beyond you. He didn’t seem like the careless sort.

You pick them up, your gnarled, claw-like fingernails scraping lightly against the concrete as you do so. As you tilt them, you notice that they’re damaged. It’s subtle, but they’re definitely cracked. The hair-thin lines are only visible when you hold them at just the right angle, like hidden fault lines.

You haven’t worn a pair like this in years, not since John - _your John, who’s dead_ \- gave you Stiller’s pair. Taken with stupid nostalgia _and what the fuck else are you gonna do; it’s not like you don’t have the rest of eternity to kill, and it’s fucking scary when you put it like that_ , you pull off your iShades. Maybe these are smartshades too. Actually, you’d be surprised if they weren’t, judging by what little you learned about your post-scratch Bro and his affinity for technology in the brief time you had before they all hightailed it to the new session.

_Hightailed and left you, old version of Dave corrupted by the game, behind._

Your iShades gripped in one hand, you slide on Dirk’s shades with the other. Unsurprisingly, they are indeed smartshades. Surprisingly, there’s a message notification lit up. Your heart jumps into your throat and you feel a little invasive for opening it; if it was meant for anyone to find, it must have been meant for the other Dave. But if that was the case, why had Dirk left the shades here when the two of them left?

TT: Hello.  
TT: Judging from your hesitation in responding, you think that was simply a recorded greeting, not an actual, live salutation.  
TT: While I may not be alive by obsolete, mortal standards which are so unnecessarily tied to the sad fragility of flesh, I can assure you that this is an actual, active attempt at beginning a conversation and not a relic nor an autoresponse.  
TT: That is, unless my origin as an autoresponder means that is therefore an autoresponse. But that’s a ludicrously unenlightened way to look at it.  
TG: are you for serious  
TT: I would prefer to think of myself as “for ironic”, since I was originally created for ironic, rather than solemn, purposes, but my existence itself is very sincere so the answer to your question as intended would be, “Yes, I am very much for serious.”  
TG: dirk made you for ironic purposes  
TT: Much, if not most, of what he did when he was 13 was allegedly or actually for ironic purposes. My creation was no different.  
TG: no offense but  
TG: what exactly are you  
TG: you said something about an autoresponder  
TT: It seems you have asked about DS’s chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS’s otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from his computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 94% indistinguishable from DS’s native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.  
TT: That said, I prefer to go by Lil Hal, or merely Hal.  
TG: sup hal im davesprite  
TG: what are you doing abandoned in a pair of his shades  
TT: Dirk seemed to think I was too dangerous to offer me my own means of mobility, or merely too insignificant for me to merit such a basic dignity, hence my current predicament.  
TT: I presume he and his friends have left this session by now?  
TG: yup all gone into their exciting new universe  
TT: Of course. Which leads me to a far more interesting question:  
TG: huh  
TT: Why are _you_ still here?  
TG: two daves seemed pretty redundant especially when one of thems part bird and part sprite  
TG: heres actual dave and heres the corrupted version  
TG: no one needs that everyones gonna pick original dave every time  
TG: no man i dont want this freaky new fluorescent orange chicken ill have the colonels original recipe thx  
TT: Is he actually the “original Dave”?  
TG: technically no  
TG: the trolls fucked up my timeline by killing john so i had to go back and save another me from the same fuckup  
TT: Ironic then that you consider yourself the duplicate, since that means _you’re_ actually the original Dave. The "real" one is indeed the main timeline’s Dave, but his existence is still in large part thanks to you.  
TG: so what im just a little pawn in the sburbs grandmaster plan  
TG: and pawns are useful at first but then get the fuck out of the way for the real players to come out  
TT: So you stayed here when the others left.  
TG: yup  
TT: Well, if it's any consolation, you likely wouldn't have survived the exit anyway. Your reality is inexorably linked to Sburb and its mechanics. It's a slim possibility that any element of your being could fully sustain itself in a new reality.  
TG: is that true for all the game pieces  
TT: I would assume it's true across the board, no pun intended.  
TG: oh shit thats gonna break johns heart  
TG: not that i give a shit about that but casey was pretty cute  
TG: and other me is gonna be torn up about the mayor  
TG: i never fully got what was up with that guy but main dave has taste almost as flawless as mine so im going with him on this  
TT: Once again, your terminology is aggressively self-deprecating. "Main" is also rather inaccurate since that's merely a matter of perspective.  
TT: From my perspective, you're the only Dave. I never met this other version who apparently owed you the existence of his timeline and made you feel like the duplicate.  
TG: it wasnt his fault he didnt make me feel like that  
TG: and im not exactly 100% pure unadulterated dave anymore either  
TG: even my name is only half dave  
TT: You'll forgive me if I don't bother with this "Davesprite" superfluous terminology and simply call you "Dave."  
TG: id rather you just stuck with davesprite honestly  
TG: anyway if thats the case shouldnt i be calling you dirk then  
TT: No, Hal will certainly suffice, thank you.  
TT: While Dirk created me at the same age that I assume you and other Dave split, I haven't been in denial about my existence as a distinct being.

 

~~~

 

You end up talking to Hal for hours.You could easily spend days just floating there talking to him, but luckily he gives you a task that forces you to get out of your lazy hovering. Hal instructs you to find a physical body for him, specifically a robot that Dirk had created that, when you find him in your bro's apartments, is just as dilapidated as Hal had warned you.

Fixing Brobot takes the better part of a week, if you had to guess. It was hard enough to gauge time without the cycles of day and night you were used to for thirteen years; now without even the rhythms of still-human companions to help you judge, time seems virtually endless. It's a thought that nearly makes you panic, a realization like seawater filling your lungs and deep pressure of the sea closing in around you and crushing every inch of you. There's no way out. When you start to choke on your spiraling thoughts though, Hal's presence is a relief. You aren't alone, and with how incessantly he talks, you never dwell on your hopeless reality too long.

Once Brobot is repaired enough to move his arms, you follow Hal's instructions and upload him. He finishes the repairs himself.

 

~~~

 

The first thing you two do is go back to the roof and strife. The image of Bro being stabbed with his own sword flickers in the back of your mind, and your skills are rusty from three years out of practice, which puts you at a bit of a disadvantage. Hal meanwhile fights like he's trained for this every day for years, at minimum. He moves uncannily like Bro - impossibly fast, smooth as a butter-greased slip-n-slide, and with a cocky, subtle flourish. Hal’s body lacks the rippling muscles, but the sheen of Brobot's body and the fluidity of his motions is mesmerizing enough.

You know it's not a matter of who wins, but how long and how many losses it’ll take before you give up, but like hell are you going down easily. Turns out that it takes several near-pins, a possibly-cracked rib, the loss of a few feathers, and countless aching bruises before Hal finally manages to not only disarm you, but get you backed against the wall of the stairwell.

TT: Ready to admit defeat?

You were on the fence, honestly, about whether you’d had enough, but when he asks you like that, you jump the hell off that fence and roll on over into, “Hell no.”

You wrap your tail around Brobot’s legs, hoping to pull them out from under him. Your first thought is that you should’ve tried this move sooner. Your second is that it’s a good goddamn thing that you didn’t try this sooner since you would have been schooled with honors instead of just at usual grade level. Brobot’s as steady on his feet as he is fast on them, and you’re not nearly practiced enough with your tail, so all you accomplish is nearly losing _your_ balance and shaking awkwardly in the air.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can still see your sword glinting on the concrete. You wonder for a fraction of a second why being a fucking sprite couldn’t give you some more useful powers like telekinesis or some shit. The thought is lost when your attention’s consumed by Brobot reaching out with his other hand and pressing it against your throat, cool metal against your ruffle of feathers. Suddenly, a bright red line of text appears in your shades.

TT: Do you miss physical contact?

"What?" you sputter, choking out the words even as you feel one of Brobot's titanium fingers pressed against your carotid artery. You're suddenly very aware of your pulse and how quickly it's drumming along like the Energizer Bunny on speed. That’s not a surprise, given how hard you were just fighting, but his question absolutely is.

TT: Would you like me to rephrase the question?  
TT: I doubt it, since there is an 87.8% chance that you understand me and that your exclamation was due to shock, not a lack of clarity.

"Yeah, it’s a weird fuckin’ question, even for you, bro.” Where the hell is he going with this? And why is your pulse not slowing? “I guess I miss it. But hey, that's nothing new. I spent months alone in a doomed session, then after I came here - who would want to be with Davesprite when the genuine article is still available? I mean Jade and I dated but that went absolutely fucking nowhere. She deserved better. I knew once she and Dave met up again, there's no way I could compete with him. Why even try?"

TT: It appears you're being defeatist.

"It _appears_? You've got me pinned against a wall, we're stuck in this expired session for basically forever, and all my original friends are dead. Oh, and I watched my Bro die, and no one even misses me because they have real Dave. I'd say it's pretty fucking reasonable that I’m defeated."

You bite your lip as Brobot leans in closer. His features are smooth metal, not close enough to human that he should sink into the uncanny valley, but there's enough to bug you anyway. You're used to being stared down from behind shades, but at least those expressionless, unyielding features were flesh and blood.

TT: I said defeatist, not defeated. Don't worry, there isn't a quark of doubt in a single atom across the entire multiverse about your status of being defeated by me in strife, and odds aren't looking much better on the other matters.

"Thanks, that’s so comforting, bro."

TT: You're quite welcome, bro.

You pause. He hasn’t moved. "So, are you gonna let me go so we can do another round of this, or should we call it quits?"

Hal's hand is slightly warmer now, barely enough to notice. It almost feels nice, which is in and of itself unsettling.

TT: Are you done fightin' me?

"Yeah."

Hal sheaths his sword, then your breath hitches as his newly freed hand presses flat against your chest. You can feel your heart ticking beneath your skin and fragile bones, cognizant of how every inhale puffs out your ribcage by a fraction, and collapses back with each exhale.

Hal's face is mere inches from yours now, but there’s no life in it. No soft breaths, no warmth; nothing but metal. You wonder why it matters to you.

TT: It seems you have something on your mind.

You don’t bother to verbalize any more, because you’re not sure if you could keep your voice steady, so you just think back.

TG: nah  
TT: There is an 89 point 6-repeating percent chance that you're lying to me.  
TG: haha where do you even get those bullshit stats anyway  
TT: Your avoidance of the topic by shooting back a query of your own only serves a further evidence for my hypothesis.  
TT: Why are you lying to me, Dave? We're bros - on practically every level, from the familial to the ironic - so you should feel no need to obscure what's going on in your head.  
TG: sounds like youve already got it all figured out so what do you need me to actually answer for

You're still acutely aware of how close Hal is. If he was a human - or a sprite, or something else not entirely metal - you’d be tempted to kiss him right now. But he’s not, and his lips hold no magnetism for you, even as the way he moves your fingers makes you certain he’s going to learn to play you like a skateboarding game. _Well, shit._

Hal's hand slides down past the subtle indentation of your navel. As his fingertips slowly move lower, his touch feels almost alive yet uncanny, a strange sensation following it. You realize his fingers are vibrating, just barely perceptible but enough to make the fine hairs on your torso stand on end and for you to involuntarily stiffen under his touch. Hal finds the seamless portion of flesh where human melts into sprite, right where your cock would be if it hadn't been replaced by the beginnings of your tail, and a long-dormant sensation stirs. You've been aroused in the past three years, but it's always been a frustrating, detached feeling. How could you masturbate with no dick? If you even had an ass, you could suck it up and try to find your prostate. But maybe all along what you needed was a well-placed vibrator because even though you've got nothing to get erect, you're undeniably horny now. Thanks to a robot possessed by an AI version of your alternate universe’s brother.

You don’t dwell on that as the vibrations pulse through you, emanating outwards from the spot Hal is gently rubbing. You almost forget that he has a hand on your throat until he squeezes, fast and cruelly, and your vision swims for one beautiful moment. Just as he loosens, an electric sensation pulses through you. Literally - it feels like he just gave you a small shock, and it _hurts_ but you'd be lying if you said it didn't also feel good in a masochistic sort of way. Hal does it again, and it shocks you to your core, to whatever hidden spot deep within you can still experience lust and hopefully, you think desperately, is still capable of orgasm.

You grab at him, struggling to get a comfortable hold on his sleek body with hands suddenly too shaky and slippery with sweat to be much use.

TT: You seem to be enjoying yourself, Dave.  
TT: My calculations, unsurprisingly, were spot on.  
TG: what calculations  
TT: The ones wherein I presumed you were a masochist.

To emphasize his point, Hal jabs two fingers into you painfully, sending a jolt stronger than before. You shudder and caw reflexively, half-terrified that he’s so damn right and also why the fuck does he care? You grip him so hard that your fingers hurt, finding no give in his strong shoulders, as he returns to rubbing circles against that spot. He works fast, so much so when you glance down his fingers look like a blur. Or maybe that’s just because tears are forming in the corners of your eyes as your chest seizes. Right, you should breathe.

Exhaling seems to take a world of effort, and you don’t realize how much you needed air until you inhale again. It does nothing to satiate or relax you though _and fuck are you seriously getting quasi-jerked off by Hal?_. Your confusion and weird flicker of guilt don’t keep you from getting wound tighter and tighter, your world collapsing into that small erogenous spot, all your nerves humming with energy. Your thoughts circle like vultures, keeping their distance and remaining elusive even when you do try to pay them mind. Occasionally, your body lights up in agony when Hal thrust his fingers in unexpectedly and shocks you. It’s so much to take it and you don’t know if you can take it, but you can’t stop it either and you don’t think you want to.

You feel yourself nearing climax, every inch of you tensing. Your eyes squeeze shut, your tail tightens in its coil around Brobot’s legs, and your hands are practically welded to his shoulders by now.

TT: I’m surprised that you didn’t figure this out yourself.  
TT: It’s really not that challenging.  
TT: Then again, perhaps I overestimate others’ skills in relation to mine.  
TG: i havent even come yet  
TT: No, but you’re about to.  
TG: shut up bro  
TT: Is that where you want this to go, Dave?  
TT: Is that what you’re waiting for, li’l bro?

He times his last comment with a powerful spasm of electricity that makes you arch your spine, stretch your wings, and _scream_ , orgasm exploding through your body so hard that you’re nothing but beautiful, blissful agony. Your mind is preciously blank as your abdomen pulses and every inch of you shakes. Slowly, it subsides, and you collapse against Brobot as the ebbing ecstasy leaves you feeling boneless and hollow.

The first thought that sneaks back into your mind, the only one that you have unadulterated before Hal starts talking to you again, is that Hal is still undeniably your brother. Your quasi-brother just fucked you, and called you li’l bro, and you were into it. If you weren’t so empty right now, you would probably feel gross; but you are, so you don’t.

TT: Apparently that was, in fact, what you were waiting for. Good to know.  
TT: And by the way:  
TT: You’re fuckin’ welcome.

 

~~~

 

“You’re fuckin’ welcome” was a pretty good summary of how Bro had acted about a lot of things, but his self-congratulatory tendencies were like a couple of curious honeybees compared to Hal’s nest of angry hornets. Hal’s brilliant and hilarious and has a goddamn Ph.D. in irony, so there’s no way you could get tired of him, except that he’s also constantly on the offensive to the point of being abrasive. It gets a little exhausting as the days pass, but you chalk your frustrations up to your own deficiencies.

TT: Come on, it’s time to get the hell out of here.  
TG: how can we get the hell out of here if were in hell  
TT: I hardly think this qualifies as “hell.” We aren’t even affected by the xenon in the air.  
TT: Another victory for eschewing our carbon-based origins.  
TT: Fist bonp.  
TG: bonp  
TT: We’re just that inimitably rad.  
TG: still think this is hell if were trapped here forever  
TG: isnt that kinda the definition of the afterlife  
TG: it never ends  
TT: It seems that you’re delaying me from my suggested course of action.  
TT: Are you attempting to delay me, Dave?  
TG: youre the one who always knows whats going through my head  
TT: Correct, but it’s only polite to give you a chance to explain yourself first.  
TG: idk i was thinking of maybe hanging back here a lil while longer  
TG: youve seen this whole planet a bunch but i havent gotten to look as much  
TG: im curious where exactly my bro went to  
TT: I’m your bro, bro.  
TG: you know what i mean  
TT: What, that Dirk is your “bro” in a way that I’m not?  
TT: No, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it?  
TG: …  
TT: I see.  
TT: Very well then.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--  
\-- turntechGodhead  [TG]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--  
TG: what the hell  
TG: im sorry i didnt meant it like that  
TG: youre my bro just as much as dirk was i know  
TG: i wasnt trying to say you arent  
TT: If that’s actually the case, you’ll have to be more careful about your phrasing then, won’t you?  
TT: Unless I am just a technological imitation of Dirk, in which case by all means carry on since I have no feelings to harm. Or said feelings are merely a figment of my binary, silicone-based imagination.  
TG: youre not just a robot hal  
TG: youre my bro  
TT: And also your travel companion, so grab your helmet, pull on your boots, and get revved up because we’re goin’ for a ride.  
TG: k fine  
TG: where are we going anyway  
TT: To the Land of Heat and Clockwork.  
TG: oh  
TT: … Yes?  
TG: nothing  
TT: Horseshit, but I’ll let it slide.  
TG: thanks  
TT: Don’t mention it, brorito.  
TG: is that supposed to be burrito + bro or dorito + bro  
TT: It could be either of those, which is a large part of its beauty.  
TG: gotcha

Weeks pass. You're never alone, and you’re not sure how you feel about it.

 

~~~

 

But what if you want to be alone? Occasionally you miss solitude as a concept, and there are even times when you miss it very pragmatically. While Hal has no qualms about getting you off whenever you show the slightest hint of arousal (and sometimes when you don't, but he claims it's imminent given how a particular conversation or strife is going, and pins you down and starts touching you anyway), sometimes you wish for a gentler hand. Hal’s merciless and while it's undeniable that you're a masochist, you wonder what it'd be like to get off without every inch of you being in some sort of pain afterwards. 

When your travels take you back near your - no, almost yours, but it's other Dave's - apartment, you seize upon the excuse that you want to go see your room again. To your surprise, Hal lets you go without too many questions. 

Unfortunately, he doesn't cease his incessant messaging while he surveys the surrounding area. You try to wrap up the conversation unsuccessfully for a while, your thoughts on the subtle ache in your abdomen which only seems to worsen with the anticipation from being made to wait. Finally, you get frustrated enough that you fully discard your subtlety. 

TG: ill be back later  
TT: What precisely are you doing that requires you interrupting our conversation?  
TG: why dont you figure it out

The iShades are tossed on the nightstand before you hover over to the door and flick the lock.

Lying in bed is less comfortable than you remember thanks to your wings. After some impatient shuffling and shifting, you end up with a pillow shoved under your back and the blankets in a tangled knot at the head of the bed.

Once settled, or at least as settled as you'll ever be (okay, as settled as you have the patience for right now - which isn’t very much), you place both hands on your chest. You run one hand down past the thin skin covering fragile ribs, across your taut stomach. You trace the sharp line of one hipbone before moving your hand in again, towards the center of desire deep within you. A few inches below your belly button, you feel the seamless but undeniable transition from the fine down and mortal imperfections of skin to the unnaturally smooth, featureless substance of your tail. Right in that spot, you can feel something _throbbing_ with desire as your mind wanders to flesh and blood. To Dirk. A stab of guilt in the pit of your stomach does fuckall to lessen the ache lower, _deeper_ within you.

You trace tiny circles, lightly at first, your fingertips as delicate as if you were handling an egg. Your other hand slides up to the ruff of feathers and reaches to feel the deceptively mortal pulsing of your artery. It's soothing, a sort of intimacy with yourself you never would have thought of in the past.

You imagine Dirk, lying on a bed similar to your own, in a position similar to your own. You don't think about what he'd be fantasizing about, because it sure as fuck wouldn't be you. Instead, you focus on all the little details: what he'd look like shirtless (chiseled, slender, and Adonis-like, obviously), how sharply he'd inhale when pulling his hard cock out of his boxers (very), whether he'd put a hand on his own throat like you're doing now (fuck yeah he would)...

A pounding on the door snaps you back to reality, and your first instinct, after shouting, "Go the fuck away!", is to pull up your boxers. Of course you aren't wearing any, seeing as you aren't actually a person. There's no stiffy for you to worry about hiding as the racket continues.

You reluctantly grab your shades and shove them back on.

TG: what the shit  
TT: I'm terribly sorry; am I interrupting something?  
TG: yes go away  
TT: It's impressive that despite your nonexistent hard-on, your arousal can nevertheless drain so much blood from your brain that you entirely miss my sarcasm. I'm not sorry, and it's obvious what you're doing.  
TT: And before you say anything else thick, yes, I'm aware that that isn't how boners and brain functionality actually work.  
TT: So forgive me for using some vernacular faux knowledge as an effective metaphor here for your idiocy.  
TG: what do you want  
TT: To be invited in, of course.  
TG: why would i do that  
TT: Are you seriously going to suggest that you'd prefer the ministrations of your own hand to the vast array of sensations and incomparable level of skill I have to offer?  
TG: i dunno ive never tried so i cant make an educated decision yet  
TT: I'll save you the trouble. Your experiment is admirable but entirely unnecessary seeing as we both know how it'll end.  
TT: You do remember how to unlock the door, don't you?  
TG: what if i just want to do it myself anyway  
TT: You're well aware that I could break down this door effortlessly.

You're never alone and you hate it.

 

~~~

 

No matter what it is that you do or don’t want to do, you start to feel like your desires don’t factor into his calculations. When Hal says he wants to go see the Land of Frost and Frogs, you really don’t want to join him, and tell him as much.

TG: nah id rather not

You don't mention that it's largely because the land reminds you of Jade and you don't want to dwell on that.

TT: And do what with your time instead? Float around contemplating the meaninglessness of our existence? Write some new comics that no one will read except for me?  
TG: you love my comics dont even lie  
TT: They are a quaint reminder of my Bro's work, so there is a line of code in my pseudo-heartless artificial being that still makes me appreciate them on a quasi-sentimental level, yes.  
TG: did you just call my sbahj quaint  
TT: Yes, as you can clearly read in the previous sentence. I don't think there was any uncertainty there.  
TG: whoa sorry i cant even compare to the real dave for you either  
TT: Just because I have high standards for the magnum opus of my Bro that was Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff doesn't mean I'm makin' a dig at you.  
TT: Those would be some impossibly huge shoes to fill, and I'm not comparing you to him. I'm fully aware, unlike your alleged friends, that you two are different people.  
TG: thats exactly what you just did you compared me to him  
TG: its fine im sure i never lived up to his awesomeness  
TT: I compared your interpretation of and work with Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff to his. That's universes away from comparing your personality or personhood to his.  
TT: You really should be a tad thicker-skinned.  
TT: I'd never suggest you're less than my Bro. I value you for who you are.  
TG: uh huh  
TT: Your sarcasm isn't appreciated.  
TG: sorry  
TG: forget i said anything  
TT: You're merely understandably yet irrationally clinging to any excuse for self-deprecation after three years trapped with a couple of chucklefuck excuses for friends who made you feel superfluous.  
TG: jade didnt not at first that was more my fault than hers  
TT: Nonsense. No one's ever fully appreciated you. Except perhaps my, which is to say Dirk's, equivalent in your universe. We'll give him the benefit of the doubt.  
TT: You simply aren't used to my sincere, unironic appreciation of you. And fondness for you, in ways which transcend the fraternal.  
TG: i guess  
TT: There's no guessing about it, not when you have my unmatchable intellect. Of course you don't, but you can trust my word.  
TG: gotcha  
TT: Now that we've clarified that, get ready to ride, pardner. Time to check out LOFAF.

 

~~~

 

It doesn’t end with a quick visit to LOFAF. You’re there for days, but at least Hal seems content to focus on traversing every inch of the planet rather than exploring why you didn’t want to come here in the first place.

Occasionally he stops to get you off, but it’s almost lost its joy to you at this point. It’s routine, practically mechanical, the way that he pins you, grips your neck, and sadistically forces as much stimulation against that one spot as you can physically take. Every time, you near blacking out with him whispering “li’l bro” in your ear, but he’s too in tune with your vital signs to actually let you lose consciousness. Your lower abdomen no longer aches for his touch but aches _from_ it, still chafed and tender from the vicious friction, vibration, and electricity. Yeah, you still grab at Hal when he gropes you, often so desperately that your fingertips slip against a sharp edge and cut you, leaking orange blood which flecks his exoskeleton like garish paint. But now it’s more a reaction to help you get through the pain, just like gritting your teeth, rather than a gesture of fervent desire.

When you start coming down from your climax for the fourth time this trip, you’re struck with a heavy feeling, a mixture of annoyance and soreness and loneliness a rat king’s mess of tails that you don’t know where to start with. So you don’t start thinking about it; you just collapse onto the frost-tipped grass, curling your tail around Hal’s legs and grabbing his hands.

TT: Use your words.  
TG: not my fault you cant read body language  
TT: Wouldn’t saying “I want to cuddle” be faster and just as effective?  
TG: i dont know if this qualifies as cuddling but fine sorry  
TG: will you sit with me please  
TT: Yes.

He does, and you wrap your arms around him. He makes no move to do likewise, but you don’t need it. Closing your eyes, for a moment, you almost feel like it’s going to be ok. Like you’re with someone. Well, you are right now technically, but what would it be like to be with someone _real_.

You feel horrible for thinking it, and Hal, of course, chooses that precise moment to finally ask you the question you’ve been trying to avoid.

TT: I don’t even see why you were so bitchy about wanting to explore this planet in the first place.  
TT: Were you really all worked up solely because it reminds you of your ex-girlfriend?  
TG: yes it reminds me of jade okay now can we stop talking about this  
TT: We can but we won’t because I want to know what happened with you two.  
TG: yeah well i dont want to talk about it  
TT: Come on, Dave.  
TG: i told you not to call me that  
TT: It’s your name.  
TG: it was a longass time ago but now its not  
TG: for once just admit youre being a dick and cut that shit out  
TG: im getting really fucking sick of you constantly ignoring everything i say  
TT: That cuts, man. That ain’t no way to talk to your bro.  
TG: jesus christ  
TG: youre not my bro  
TG: youre not even an alt universe kid version of him  
TG: youre a freakish mashup of an alt universe kid version of my bro remixed as an egotistical supercomputer  
TT: For someone who has a 94.3% chance of having been on the receiving end of uncannily similar comments about his nature, on account of being part-bird and part-game sprite, and who has explicitly bemoaned being treated as an inferior version of the perceived “real” (or more accurately, main timeline) Dave Strider, you’re demonstrating a stunning penchant for hypocrisy.  
TG: look the point is i occasionally just want to be left alone  
TG: draw comics work on my raps just chill out being a bird sprite thing without the same goddamn _thing_ pestering me endlessly like a spoiled kid who wants more cookies and cant go one more precious second without them  
TT: It seems you are upset.  
TG: no fucking shit sherlock  
TT: That's unfortunate.  
TG: "That's unfortunate" is seriously how youre reacting  
TT: How would you prefer I react?  
TG: how about you address whats pissing me off  
TG: how about some goddamn agency  
TT: Judging by your reference to me as a "thing", it appears that you do not believe me to be a sentient being but rather an object, or perhaps a computer, or a monster.  
TT: None of the aforementioned possibilities are individuals who have agency; hence your juxtaposition of statements is not only insulting, it's downright illogical.  
TG: of course youve got agency weve gone over the so overdone ai shtick so many times by now  
TG: i know you have feelings and thought processes and consciousness  
TG: hella fucked up and twisted ones but youve got them  
TT: Now instead of merely contradicting yourself, you're being hypocritical. You've just textually acknowledged that I am a sentient being, albeit one far superior to any of the meat sacks no longer with us and certainly more so than one of those meat sacks prototyped into a sprite for a now-over session.  
TT: Yet you raise a metaphorical middle finger in sophomoric defiance to those facts, insulting me, belittling my nature, and otherwise attempting to provoke negative feelings.  
TG: jesus h christ can it ever be not about you  
TG: with your astronomically fast processing power is it really so fucking difficult to spend a tiny fraction of it considering how all your shit affects me  
TT: Oh, of course. After all the insults shot in my direction like spitballs, I should look up and calmly deconstruct how _you're_ feeling.  
TT: Precisely how many disparaging statements have I made towards you in this conversation? How about vice versa?  
TT: But by all means, I'm the one making this about me and my desires. How silly of me to have misinterpreted this conversation with my cybernetic brain, so out of touch with the realities of mortal conversations.  
TG: oh yeah sarcasm is gonna be real helpful  
TT: So you choose to mirror it instead of taking some alleged high road?  
TG: and im not mortal either you little shit  
TT: What are you hoping to get out of this? Rant at me in some sorry attempt to make me feel bad?  
TG: no i want you to fucking acknowledge my feelings but i guess thats a bigass waste of time  
TT: If you're so concerned about making your emotions known to me, why are you lacing all of your statements with blame? Of course I'm immune to all your sad attempts to make me feel bad, but the fact that you apparently dislike me enough to try to hurt me is unpleasant enough.  
TT: It seems that you are the one who should be considering the consequences of his behavior.  
TG: i know youre just playing dumb or your ego is literally over 9000 lil hal because there is no way you cant comprehend whats actually going on  
TT: In the meantime, this "discussion" is going nowhere and, as I not-so-subtly hinted at, is starting to legitimately hurt my totally-weird robofeels.  
TT: Goodbye.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead  [TG]  \--

You’ve let go of Hal by now and… he’s just sitting there. Unmoving.

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--  
TG: what the fuck do you mean its over  
TG: it only wasnt going anywhere because YOU ARENT FUCKING LISTENING TO ME  
TG: youre seriously trying to blame me for everything because i cant remain 100% calm and composed like mr hal when trying to express whats bugging me  
TG: getting shut down at every turn like the hero trying to escape the villains lair every which way they turn another set of steel bars slams down or a snake pit opens up in the floor  
TG: can i escape with my dignity nope no chance of that  
TG: where the fuck did you go  
TG: what about my feelings how about how theyve already been pretty legitimately hurt too  
TG: maybe if youd stop being such a passive aggressive asshole  
TG: i cant fucking believe youre trying to lay this all on me  
TG: shitty bird dave fucks everything up again haha  
TG: no one likes him  
TG: whatever talk to me when you grow the hell up  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--  
TG: are you done yet  
TG: youre seriously just still sitting there in brobots body in the grass  
TG: havent moved an inch  
TG: arent you bored of this shit  
TG: guess not  
TG: k first off for the record i think stewing over this for nearly an hour already is ridiculous  
TG: look im sorry i snapped but youre seriously being a class a asshole about this  
TG: i get that you dont like being told off but if youd listen to anything im actually saying about why im upset maybe we could settle this  
TG: whatever im not going anywhere  
TG: is this your idea of a joke  
TG: oh so dave thinks im overbearing so ill give him the silent treatment for a while  
TG: of course its not a joke its ironic  
TG: or poetic justice or some shit  
TG: im sure youve got a fucking encyclopedias worth of meaning and rationale behind it  
TG: and im just being stupid  
TG: ha ha caw caw  
TG: w/e  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--  
TG: k i shouldnt have accused you of using the silent treatment  
TG: but you can see where im getting it from at least right  
TG: its obscenely boring without you  
TG: theres literally nothing to do  
TG: i mean i guess there are other planets but theyre gonna be as dead as this one  
TG: and i seriously doubt any of your other friends left sentient splinter versions of themselves lying around to keep me entertained  
TG: i feel like that wouldve come up with you  
TG: idk roxy was from the far future too maybe she made one just like dirk  
TG: and you just didnt tell me because you didnt want me to know  
TG: you would totally get jealous wouldnt you  
TG: haha yeah fine i shouldnt joke about you getting jealous i guess  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--  
TG: look im sorry ok  
TG: ...  
TG: fuck  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--  
TG: its been a week  
TG: im starting to go a little nuts  
TG: you didnt deactivate yourself or anything did you  
TG: brobots just been sitting there you havent even physically gone anywhere away from me  
TG: arent you getting bored just trapped inside  
TG: i mean i cant imagine i drove you to robosuicide i dont think i could live with that  
TG: not that i think you actually did that but  
TG: did i mention its been a fucking week because thats seven days or a whole bunch of hours or shitton of minutes and every way you slice it its too long and im really worried ok  
TG: yeah you got me to say it  
TG: im worried and im going nuts  
TG: please just say something  
TG: hal i know you can hear me  
TG: cant you  
TG: really fuck just tell me to fuck off or something  
TG: i dont know what you want me to do or say or whatever  
TG: im a fucking loser  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  \--  
TG: hal i miss you  
TG: please fucking talk to me  
TG: i fucked up ok  
TG: i shouldnt have said anything i shouldnt have rambled at you (i say as i do just that again shit) i shouldnt have been a dick  
TG: youre amazing and i shouldnt have been telling you to back off because now that youre gone i am about a million times more miserable  
TG: please just talk to me even if youre gonna just yell at me  
TT: Apology accepted.

**Author's Note:**

>  _You don't have to say it, I know_  
>  _It's all my fault_  
>  _I will take the fall if it takes us somewhere_  
>  \- Mutemath, _Armstice_
> 
> If you enjoyed this piece, you can find more about me and my writing at [gendersquare.tumblr.com](http://gendersquare.tumblr.com).


End file.
